


These Simple Mornings

by spicywatson



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Early Mornings, Fluff, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Winter, yes baby martin returns again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22323664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicywatson/pseuds/spicywatson
Summary: Oswald is incredibly grateful to be inside, warm and comfortable, his baby resting on his chest and his husband snoring softly nearby.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot & Martin & Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 18
Kudos: 100





	These Simple Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> Rich romashka has translated this fic into Russian! You can find it here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/9656728

This is one of Oswald’s very favorite parts of the day. The soft light of dawn seeps into their bedroom, masked only by the silky curtains drawn over the windows. It’s a silent, pale morning. A comfortable morning.

He glances back at Ed, who is still curled up around him, still fast asleep. Good, he hasn’t been disturbed by Oswald’s waking and shifting. As quietly as he can manage, he slips out of his embrace, out from under the covers.

This is definitely not the first time Oswald’s woken before Ed and found himself drifting towards the crib a few feet from the side of the bed. But Oswald is not always so subtle about paying their baby an early-morning visit, and Ed often catches him.

Normally, after waking and missing Oswald’s warm weight in his arms, Ed would force him back into bed, worrying over the stress on his leg or how much sleep he’s been getting. But Oswald’s husband had had a particularly strenuous day of evil scheming prior to this morning, and flopped into bed last night utterly drained. Oswald carefully tucks the covers up around his husband’s shoulders, smoothing over his arms lovingly. Ed’s terribly exhausted, he deserves to rest too.

And so Oswald slips into his robe and continues to the crib uninterrupted, doing little to try to suspend the eager smile that spreads across his face. He knows he’s terribly attached to this child, probably almost obsessively, but he guesses any parent would be.

Oswald’s heart swells and sighs as the baby squeaks in his sleep, little feet kicking out a bit and fingers twitching ever so slightly. Knowing Martin will be particularly distressed if he disturbs him, Oswald resists the urge to pick him up and soothe him, and instead wraps his hands around the edge of the crib and silently gazes upon him.  
His wonderful, perfect little baby. Round, pink cheeks. Dark, feathery hair that lies in soft waves on his head, suggesting it might curl as it grows out more. Long dark eyelashes, like his own. Big brown eyes, very much like Ed’s. And even at only a few months old, he’s like his father in many ways, Oswald supposes.

It’s not just that Ed especially likes to dress their baby in shades of green. Or that Martin quiets and smiles when his father tells him a riddle. It’s nearly everything about their son that reminds Oswald of the love of his life. They’re sure to have a mini mischief-maker on their hands, thanks to the Riddler’s influence.

But that’s not to say that Oswald doesn’t have a connection with Martin too. He and his baby share such an immensely profound and deep-rooted bond, unbreakable as the one Oswald had with his own mother. It’s almost like they understand each other in some metaphysical, transcendental way, each sensing when the other is joyful or melancholy. When Martin is fretful or feeling forlorn, he seeks Oswald for comfort. Anytime the baby seems anxious, Oswald knows exactly how to snuggle him and calm him. Ed describes Oswald as having a “magic touch,” capable of soothing their baby in a heartbeat.

Oswald pauses briefly, his smile fading slightly. He wishes his mother could be here. Certainly she would be proud of him, and he knows she would simply adore Martin. He sniffles, and then turns to look behind him, to make sure he hasn’t woken Ed. But then Oswald feels this incredible bliss wash over him. Despite everything he’s been through, despite the pain and heartbreak and loss, for the first time in a long time, he’s _happy._ This family might be small but it’s everything to him.

Oswald turns back to the crib, his heart feeling lighter. He fondly watches the sleeping baby for a moment more, before he’s unable to restrain himself any longer. With warmth blooming in his chest, Oswald reaches down into the crib and strokes Martin’s cheek, a soothing gesture.

And that does it. Martin stirs and whimpers, perfect little face twisting into a grimace. At least now Oswald has an excuse to coddle him.

He leans over the rail and gently lifts the tiny thing, bringing him up and holding him close. He whimpers a bit in response but is quick to melt into his parent’s embrace.

Feeling quite tender and paternal, Oswald presses another kiss into his son’s feathery hair. He pushes open the curtains and then settles into the armchair, just for a moment, his baby curled up over his heart. It doesn’t take long before Martin’s eyelids become heavy again and finally fall shut. Oswald never imagined he could sleep this often, but it at least gives Oswald the opportunity to just be with him.

Outside the window, fluffy snowflakes drift along like feathers, settling in the vast white blanket that covers their lawn. Oswald loathes winter, but in comparison to the blazing heat of summer, a little snowfall is the lesser of two evils. Still, Oswald is incredibly grateful to be inside, warm and comfortable, his baby resting on his chest and his husband snoring softly nearby. 

Martin begins to squirm, suggesting that he’s probably ready to be changed. Oswald rubs slow circles into his baby’s back and pushes himself to stand. He keeps an eye on Ed as he carefully hobbles from the room, heading for the changing table a room over.

They’ll push the crib into the nursery too once he’s a little older, but for now, Oswald can’t bear to let him out of his sight. If it were up to him, he would bring Martin to sleep in the bed with himself and Ed, and keep him tucked close to his body, just to know he’s safe. But Ed warned him of the dangers of sleeping next to an infant, and the risk that one of them might roll over during the night. And so Oswald lamented, but eventually decided to keep the crib in their room as a compromise.

As he carefully lays his son on the changing table, he finds himself pausing to suck in a breath, to collect himself. He reaches for the bag of supplies. This is something Oswald truly detests, but he’ll do whatever he has to for the sake of his baby. Martin fusses, quite uncomfortable with this situation, and grasps at his father’s fingers with little fists.

“Shhh, darling,” Oswald whispers, pressing kisses to the soft, pink pads of his baby’s tiny feet. A tremendous swelling in his heart warms him all over and tugs his lips into a smile. He loves this baby, deeply, impossibly so.

In the beginning, Oswald wasn’t sure that he even wanted children. He was an only child, free of the intolerable company of siblings, but he was abused by peers at school. They could be cruel, relentless. As Oswald grew older, his opinion of children never faltered; he still disliked most of them, grimacing at their loudness, their rambunctiousness. 

But his whole world changed after Martin. This tiny, fragile creature who instantly latched onto him, never letting go. His pride, his joy.

And having Ed there every step of the way certainly helped him feel differently. He was no longer afraid. His husband’s affection and words of encouragement certainly helped him push through, helped him overcome the crushing feelings of inadequacy and anxiety.

Oswald smiles warmly and leans down to pepper a few kisses on Martin’s round squishy cheek. This gives the baby the opportunity to reach out, tiny fingers taking hold of Oswald’s nose and squeezing. Chuckling, Oswald allows himself to be suffocated for just a moment, just because it pleases Martin so. It’s not a particularly strong or painful grip that Martin has on his nose, anyway. 

Oswald catches the two little hands between his fingers, swoops down, and drops a kiss to Martin’s nose. This has the baby utterly surprised, eyes widening, mouth falling open. Very delicately, and careful not to add too much pressure, Oswald touches his forehead to the tiny one. The little hands instantly reach for his face again, and so he lets his baby explore, tug at his nose, feel around his eyes, grasp his hair.

When Oswald decides he’s been poked and prodded enough, he offers the baby his pacifier, which he eagerly accepts, eyes drifting closed in bliss. With his baby now compliant, docile, and practically melting as he sucks on his prized pacifier, Oswald finishes wrapping him up and dressing him in his daytime wear. He slips a little knitted hat (a gift from Olga) over Martin’s head, just to ensure he’s warm enough. _Heat leaves the body quickest through the head and the feet,_ Ed had told him. Making sure to keep a steady hand supporting his neck and head, Oswald gingerly lifts the baby up, letting him latch his tiny hands onto the fabric of his robe. He smiles.

A gentle hand slides across his lower back, and Oswald turns to meet Ed’s lips. Ed kisses him slowly, tenderly, stroking his thumb over his cheek all the while. 

“’Morning,” Ed murmurs, eyelids still heavy from sleep.

“Good morning, my dear,” Oswald responds softly. “Did you sleep alright?”

Ed hums. “Well enough, I suppose.” Never wanting Oswald to worry too much over him, he’s quick to shift the focus. “How about you?”

“Pretty well,” Oswald responds simply. The truth is he slept wonderfully, but he feels a pang of guilt at having gotten so much rest while Ed has dark circles under his eyes.

“You should eat something,” Ed continues, touching his fingertips gently to Oswald’s cheek.

Oswald returns his gaze to the baby in his arms. “I’ll be okay,” he says, smiling as he strokes Martin’s cheek. Of course he _could_ eat something, but right now he’d just like to enjoy the peaceful early morning, the stillness of the mansion’s quiet halls, the feeling of his husband’s arms around him, the weight of his tiny child against his chest.

But Ed is persistent. “Yes, come on. I’ll make you something small,” Ed insists, smile widening. He drops a quick kiss to Oswald’s cheek and another gentle one to Martin’s fragile little head, then gestures for Oswald to come along downstairs.

Oswald sighs fondly and follows him to the kitchen. It’s about time for Martin’s feeding anyway, so he might as well enjoy a nice breakfast while he prepares a bottle.

He places Martin in the bassinet and sets to work at the counter beside his husband, who has just started cracking eggs and brewing tea. They busy themselves in a comfortable silence, Ed occasionally giving Oswald a playful nudge with his elbow or Oswald pressing himself into Ed’s side.

Martin’s just begun screaming his lungs out, face turning beet red, when Oswald finally has his bottle ready. Ed finishes cooking the wonderful breakfast at the same time, so then comes the challenge of trying to eat waffles while holding a bottle in one hand and a fussy baby in the crook of the other arm. Oswald’s brows pinch as he looks from his breakfast to his baby and back again. He sighs resignedly. Martin’s needs must come first.

“Here, I’ll take him,” Ed says suddenly, dropping his fork as he stands and moves around the table towards Oswald.

“Oh, Ed, are you sure?” Oswald asks, suspending his relieved smile.

“Yes, just enjoy your breakfast,” he responds, leaning down for a quick kiss as he extracts Martin from Oswald’s arms. Instantly Martin’s mood sours again as he’s moved and jostled about. “Alright, alright,” Ed laughs, and he settles back into his own chair with his son held close, “so dramatic.”

“He gets that from you,” Oswald points at him with his fork.

Ed snorts and grabs the bottle from the table, offering it to Martin so he’ll finally relax. “Yeah, okay. I’ve seen him throw half as many tantrums as you have.”

Oswald tosses him a scowl and stabs at a sausage with his fork.

After they finish breakfast (which takes twice as long since Martin needs to finish his bottle before Ed even digs in), Ed insists on starting a fire to warm the house up a bit more. It’s a nice idea, and it will certainly keep Martin from feeling a chill.

Piling on warm layers, Ed trudges out into the crisp morning, shoes sinking into the soft blanket of snow as he goes to retrieve firewood. Oswald watches from the window a bit anxiously, not liking his husband to be out in the bitter cold so early in the day, but eventually he reasons that Ed will return very shortly to warm up by the fire. He sighs and retires to the couch to wait. The grandfather clock’s ticking fills the silent living room. The baby, now full and content after his bottle, is still curled up in the folds of Oswald’s robe and is drifting off to sleep again.

At last Ed stomps back inside, nose reddened, snowflakes on his eyelashes, arms full of cut logs. Once he strips out of his coats and scarves, he kneels before the hearth and sets to work. It takes some time but eventually there’s a spark and then a glowing blaze. Oswald smiles, feeling the heat spreading over him.

Ed flops onto the couch beside him. “Feel how cold my hands are,” he says, grinning widely. He reaches out his chilled fingers, making Oswald jump as he touches them to his cheek, his neck, his wrists. 

Oswald has to suppress a shriek so as not to wake Martin, and he swats Ed’s icy hands away.

“And I wore gloves outside, too!” Ed adds with a laugh, clearly pleased with himself. He rubs his hands together vigorously.

Oswald tosses him a glare while shielding the resting baby. Although he remains snuggled lazily against Oswald, he has, of course, been woken up from his nap. “Edward, look what you’ve done!” he hisses, jerking his head towards the roused baby cradled in his arms. “Poor thing,” Oswald continues with a pout, as he caresses Martin’s soft face, as if he’s the most fragile piece of fine art he’s ever held.

Ed scoffs light-heartedly. “Oh, please. I think he’s slept long enough.” He rubs circles into Martin’s tiny body with his large hand, grinning when his son responds with a glance towards him.

It makes Oswald warm all over, the way Ed is with their child. A year ago, he never would have guessed Ed could be so affectionate with a tiny human. Ed’s never liked children, but Martin seems to be the exception. It’s different when they’re your own, Oswald supposes.

He shifts a bit closer and they just sink into the gentle silence together for several moments.

“How did it go yesterday?” Oswald asks suddenly, remembering how tired Ed was last night.

A slow smile spreads across Ed’s face, devious and Cheshire-like. “Splendid,” he drawls, as a satisfied, dreamy look washes over his face and he apparently reflects on last night’s rendezvous. “Jimbo won’t even know what hit him.”

Oswald snorts while he adjusts the little hat on his baby’s head. “Neither will the entirety of the GCPD. I’ve never known anyone to be so incapable.”

“How’d it go on your end?”

“Barbara’s willing to offer half.”

Ed chews his lip, considering this for a moment. 

“I’d _like_ to go 60-40 but…” Oswald trails off.

“We don’t want to push our luck,” Ed finishes with a nod. Of course they deserve the extra money, especially since Ed put a lot on the line to pull off this heist at the GCPD’s weapons storage. Naturally, Barbara won’t settle for less than half of what they’ll earn from selling on the black market, even though her only task in this operation is to find people willing to buy the products.

“I’m glad it’s settled, though,” Oswald adds as he takes a deep breath.

Ed hums in agreement. Then they fall back into that tender, quiet state, just enjoying the company of each other. Martin squeaks and coos softly in Oswald’s arms, Ed makes faces at him and tickles him.

He must catch the gentle smile that plays on Oswald’s lips. “What is it?” he asks, his own mouth tugging at the corners.

“Nothing. I’m just happy.”

“Me too,” Ed responds, and he hooks a finger around Oswald’s chin, pulling him closer for a kiss. They break apart slowly, Oswald’s smile widening as he’s unable to contain his bliss. “What do you want to do today?” Ed asks softly, nudging Oswald’s temple with his nose.

“Just this,” Oswald whispers as he leans against Ed, allowing himself to be pulled just a bit closer. The two sigh contentedly once they’ve nestled together, their baby son curled up between them, safe and warm.


End file.
